


Open Doors

by chattrekisses



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cute, Cute Ending, Drunken Flirting, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, French Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Humor, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pet Names, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 14:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12961521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chattrekisses/pseuds/chattrekisses
Summary: Eddie begins to notice Richie when he's fourteen years old. The noticing turns to something deeper quickly, into something peculiarly like love. Throughout the years, Eddie falls deeper and deeper in love with Richie, thinking his pining is one-sided.But the truth must come out, and so does Eddie.





	Open Doors

**Author's Note:**

> I think that I'm incapable of writing anything other than Reddie fanfiction. Hope you like this, and let me know if you do by leaving me a comment or kudos. And check out my other Reddie fics!

Eddie Kaspbrak was fourteen years old when he realized that out of all his friends, Richie Tozier was the worst. Honestly, he couldn’t understand why Bill insisted on keeping the loud-mouth around. He was obnoxious, and dirty, and smoked like it was going out of style, and every time Eddie saw him and his untamable halo of dark curls, his stomach twisted.

Eddie told himself that it was disgust, but he knew that wasn’t the right word for it.

Richie was too tall and lanky to be comfortable, and he could never stay still. It was like his limbs were charged with electricity, if he stayed still for too long he’d shake and pop his limbs before returning to his previous position. And he was ridiculous, he’d run his tongue all over the place without thought, and his humor was so coarse and vulgar it almost masked how intelligent he really was. He was intelligent though, and he was in all advanced classes, but he had a wretched habit of mocking the teachers or skipping class to smoke with Beverly Marsh. Whenever he was in class, he’d make it his mission to mess with Eddie; tugging on his curls and pinching his cheeks, remarking on how cute Eddie was or how hot his short-shorts were. Eddie told himself he hated it, that the rambunctiousness was irritating and distracting from class, but Eddie found himself wearing his shortest shorts, the red-and-white ones he knew were too small for him, only on days he had class with Richie.

He didn’t like how Richie’s ministrations made him feel.

That was another lie, he liked them too much. Richie made his heart beat too fast and his face flush, made his stomach turn like he was seasick. When he mentioned these feelings to his mother, she immediately assumed he had a terminal disease and took him to the emergency room. In the waiting room, he realized how glad he was that he hadn’t told his mom that the feelings had involved Richie. After the doctor had reassured Sonia that, _no, Eddie is not dying_ , Eddie decided that he couldn’t tell anyone else about them. If the feelings were such a cause for concern that his mother thought he was _dying_ , then they probably weren’t a good thing. So, he kept them quiet, tried to repress the fluttering in his stomach as best as he could.

It didn’t work, he still felt like his skin was on fire whenever Richie threw an arm around him and pressed a sloppy kiss against his temple, but Eddie knew he was good at hiding his emotions from others. Or at least good enough to hide them from Richie.

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was fifteen when he realized he was ridiculously and irrevocably in love with Richie Tozier. He realized this inconvenient fact when he was drunk as ass and sprawled across a blanket Bill Denbrough had laid across the floor for him. Eddie was the lightest of weights and had arrived at his drunk position through the consumption of two shots of low-quality whiskey. The other Losers were in similar states of inebriation; Ben Hanscom and Mike Hanlon were passed out, Mike on the couch and Ben with his head in Beverly’s lap. Bill and Stanley Uris were wrapped around each other, talking softly in the corner of the room. Beverly and Richie were sitting on either side of Eddie, smoking and laughing. They were in Richie’s room, which allowed to smoke and drink and be as boisterously teenage as they wanted because Richie’s parents were as absent as his filter. Eddie hummed as he watched smoke curl for Richie’s blossom lips. He was unfairly beautiful. Richie peered down at Eddie through his dark eyelashes as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette again. Eddie smiled up at him lazily.

“You’re cute like this, Eds,” Richie said. “There’s less of a stick up your ass.”

“Fuck you, Richie,” Eddie shot back. “There is not a stick up my ass.”

“I can think of other things you could stick up your ass,” Richie snickered.

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Beverly laughed.

“No, I got this Bev,” Eddie said, sitting up. His inhibitions had been drastically lowered was the explanation he repeated in his head when he woke up the next morning. He leaned closer to Richie, until he was mere inches from Richie’s face and Richie looked like he might burst into flames at any second. Eddie’s eyelids were hooded seductively and a smirk played across his lips. He reached forward and plucked the cigarette from Richie’s lips, allowing his fingers to brush them softly. Eddie inspected the smoking cigarette between his nimble fingers carefully. “I think you’re all talk, Tozier,” He said, putting the cigarette out on the floor. He got even closer to Richie, close enough that the tips of their noses brushed and Eddie could see Richie’s Adam’s apple bob. Richie’s breath smelled like nicotine and sugary gum, and his eyes were wide behind him thick glasses. “C’mon, Richie, do _something_ ,” Eddie whispered, licking his lips. Richie’s lips fumbled around empty air, completely speechless. Eddie pulled back with a smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

Richie’s face was approximately the color of a maraschino cherry, his freckles prominent against his red cheeks.

“You’re all talk,” Eddie drawled with a triumphant grin.

Beverly burst into rancorous laughter, but Richie only whispered a reverent, “What the _fuck_?”

Eddie laid back down, lacing his hands behind his head, smiling softly.

“What was that for, Eds?” Richie asked, pushing Eddie’s shoulder softly.

Eddie lazily opened his eyes and looked up at Richie, who looked as if his world had come crashing down around him. “Mmm… I like it when you’re speechless. You’re cute when you’re quiet,” He muttered. “But I like it when you tell stupid jokes and call me dumb nicknames too,” Richie’s eyes shot open in shock. Eddie reached up and tapped on Richie’s glasses lightly. “And I like you glasses. They’re cute. And your freckles, they’re cute too. You’re just really cute, Richie.”

Richie chuckled awkwardly. “Wow, you’re really drunk, aren’t you, Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie shrugged as best as he could laying down and grunted non-committedly.

“You should try to get some sleep, Eds, because you’re going to have a killer hangover in the morning,” Richie said.

“Mmm, okay,” Eddie said. He rolled over until his head was rested on Richie’s jean-clad thighs like they were a pillow. “G’night, Richie.”

“Whoa, whoa, Eds,” Richie chuckled, his voice frantic and his face red. “You… you sure you wanna sleep here?” Eddie nodded and smiled happily, and Richie gulped. “O-okay then.”

“Sweet dreams, Richie!” Eddie said.

“You too, Eds,” Richie replied, letting his hand fall into Eddie’s hair, dragging it through his curls. Eddie fell asleep quickly, purring at the sensation of Richie’s hand in his hair.

When he woke up, he immediately regretted his own existence. He blinked his eyes awake to find that his head was still in Richie’s lap, his cheek firmly pressed against Richie’s warm stomach. He felt content for one lovely moment before a pounding hangover headache began to thrum between his ears.

It was then that he realized that he was the last one of his friends to wake up.

“Be quiet, guys! He’s still sleeping!” Eddie heard Richie hiss.

“So cute!” Ben cooed.

Eddie shifted up into a seated position reluctantly, bringing a hand to work out a knot that had formed during the night due to his sleeping position. “Jesus, what happened last night?” He muttered.

“We all drank too much,” Stan supplied helpfully.

“You fell a-asleep on R-R-Richie,” Bill pointed out.

“You practically threw yourself at him last night, Eddie!” Beverly said, laughing. “I thought you were going to blow him, right then and there!”

“I’ve told you time and time again, Ringwald,” Richie joked. “Even our dear Eds here isn’t immune to my charms.”

“Oh, fuck off, Richie,” Eddie said, rubbing his eyes. “I was drunk, sue me.”

“So, you didn’t mean any of it?” Beverly asked innocently.

Eddie turned to glare at her. “I was drunk off my ass, Bev. I barely remember it.”

That was a lie, he remembered all of it. How close he was to Richie, how fast his heart was beating, how red Richie’s face had gotten. How he was both glad and disappointed that he had restrained himself enough not to kiss Richie. He knew that probably wouldn’t have ended well at all.

He turned to Richie just in time to see his expression drop into sadness before he plastered a mischievous smirk over his features. Eddie would have thought he was seeing things if not for Richie’s eyes, which was large and glassy behind his glass. Something was saddening Richie, which made Eddie’s heart hurt. Before he could comment on it though, Richie looped an arm around his shoulder and pressed a wet kiss against his forehead jokingly. “That’s alright, Eddie Spaghetti, there’ll be many more magical nights with me for you to remember!”

“In your dreams, Tozier,” Eddie snapped, pushing Richie off him.

“Oh, you know it, babe,” Richie winked, wrapping his arms back around Eddie and pulling Eddie close to his chest.

Richie’s hair tickled Eddie neck, and his breath was warm against the side of his face. Eddie felt his heart constrict. That was when he knew, for certain, that Richie wasn’t just a friend to him, wasn’t just a stupid crush he could ignore and block out. He loved Richie. He was in _love_ with Richie. He was in love with Richie Tozier, with everything from his crown of curls to his casually destructive fingers. He was so in love with Richie Tozier that it physically made his heart hurt.

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was sixteen when he decided that avoiding Richie at all costs would be the best thing to do. It wasn’t necessarily that he wanted to stop being around Richie. In fact, it was the opposite. Every time he saw Richie he felt more and more drawn to him. He leaned into every touch, caught himself blushing whenever Richie so much as glanced at him. He had hoped the feelings he had for Richie would go away or at least lessen, but it seemed like they just intensified with time and exposure.

And Eddie was happy. So, so happy. But so unbelievably jealous.

It was obvious that Richie didn’t harbor the same ridiculous pining that Eddie did. In the past year, he had had three short-term girlfriends and many, many hookups sprinkled in between. Richie had grown into himself at sixteen, finally possessing control over his own body. The classes that were once clunky and nerdy were now chic and eccentric, his excitable energy that was once considered annoying was now considered charming by his peers. It was widely known now that Richie had righteously claimed the title of town slut from Beverly; the boy had flounced out of the closet bearing bisexual colors and he would fuck anyone that dared complain. Of course, he was still bullied and frowned upon by members of the Derry community, but Richie had never given a rat’s ass about what anyone else thought and nothing could ever change that fact.

Eddie couldn’t stand seeing Richie draping himself over the catch of the day. The worst was when it was with boys; Eddie would walk up to his and Richie’s lockers and find him lip-locked with every out boy in school. Richie would send him a wink before returning to sucking face, and Eddie would just stand there awkwardly waiting for them to finish, staring at the patches of skin that peeked out from the rips in Richie’s jeans.

Things were relatively normal between the two of them otherwise. Richie never mentioned his multitudes of sexual escapades, and Eddie never asked. Sometimes though, when Richie was rambling on about something ridiculous, he’d watch his lips as he spoke and wonder why Richie never chose him. What did the other boys and girls have that he didn’t?

            The final straw came when Eddie walked in on Richie hooking up with a closeted member of the football team. Eddie recognized him by his pretzel-y colored hair and the scar that ran through his right eyebrow. They were both shirtless— thankfully nothing more— when Eddie opened the door on them. He had gone to ask Richie about a Physics problem and hadn’t realized that Richie was otherwise occupied. He immediately dropped his books in shock. The resounding smack they made when they hit the floor caused Richie to turn around and spot Eddie, and the horror on his face caused Eddie’s heart to freeze.

            Eddie spun on his heel and fled the house, not listening to Richie’s shouts of protest behind him. His feet thundered against the sidewalk, but Richie was faster and caught him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop.

            “Eds,” Richie panted, offering him a dull grin. “Sorry you had to see that.”

            “Jesus, Richie, I can’t…” Eddie searched for something, anything to say to gloss this over, but he couldn’t get out a single word that would sound sincere. The truth was that seeing Richie throw himself at everyone but him was tearing him apart, and the worst thing was that it truly wasn’t any of Eddie’s business. Richie could fuck God and it still wouldn’t be any of Eddie’s business, but Eddie’s heart didn’t seem to grasp the fact that he wasn’t allowed to care about it. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

            “This?” Richie asked, chuckling cautiously. “What’s this?”

            “You. And me. And pretending… pretending I don’t give a shit that you’re fucking everything that moves. It’s absolutely none of my business, but it fucking _kills_ me, Richie,” Eddie vented.

            “Okay, okay,” Richie got closer to him, grabbing Eddie’s hands and pleading with his eyes. “Why, Eds? You gotta tell me why!”

            “Richie, I—”

            “ _Why?_ ” Richie’s voice was so rough and raw, like he was begging to hear Eddie say what he already knew the answer was.

            But Eddie couldn’t. Even after all the years of loving Richie, he had never been able to put it into words, never let the admission leave his lips. What characterized his love for Richie was that it was secret, and he was too afraid to speak it and make it real.

            Eddie pulled away from Richie, trying to ignore the hurt painted on the other boy’s expression. “Richie, I can’t… I just… I want to. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.”

            This time, when Eddie ran away, Richie didn’t follow.

 

 

            Eddie Kaspbrak was seventeen years old when he had his first kiss.

            The Losers were gathered at Bill’s house because it was neutral territory. Richie and Eddie still weren’t comfortable with each other. They were civil, but only when they had to be. Otherwise, they largely ignored each other. Richie hadn’t been with anyone since the day Eddie had walked in on him. The football player that Eddie had cock-blocked still sulked silently around him, like he thought Eddie might out him at any second. At first everyone was suspicious, thinking Richie might have settled down with someone, finally, but after a few weeks of him arriving to school with sad eyes and a distinct absence of hickeys, the consensus turned to Richie simply stopping his sleeping around.

            While Eddie was unduly grateful to the turn of events, he was very confused. _Why_ , is what he wanted to know the most. _Do you think of me as much as I think of you_ , was a close second. Every time Eddie saw Richie, caught his eye in the crowded cafeteria or across a classroom, his heart constricted. He knew that this distance between them was his fault, that the ceasing of Richie’s parade of fuckables was due to him too. He just wanted to be close to Richie again, to watch him smile and hear him call Eddie stupid nicknames. He missed when Richie would utter, _“Eds”_ or _“Eddie Spaghetti”_ or, god bless him, _“Babe”_. Even more than that, he just wanted Richie to be able to meet his gaze and not look away first.

            Eddie could attest to the saying _absence makes the heart grow stronger_ , because every second he went without Richie made him long for him more.

            The day he fucked everything up between them, he returned home and stared long and hard in the mirror. It was then, finally, that he whispered to himself, “I love Richie Tozier. I’m in love with Richie Tozier.” He cried immediately afterward because he knew, he knew that it didn’t matter anyway.

            He whispered it to himself every morning though, right before he took his medicine. It was a promise, a reassurance, a reason to continue and hope for something more, something better soon.

            The whole situation came to a head when the Losers were congregated at Bill’s house, planning the movies that they would watch that night. Richie was uncharacteristically silent, sandwiched between Mike and Ben on the couch, as far away from Eddie as he could possibly be. Eddie sat on an overstuffed armchair with Beverly thrown across him, smoking softly. Stan and Bill were on the floor, holding hands and blushing slightly. Eddie was happy for them, finally getting together after all their years of misguided pining. They were cute together, and ridiculously happy, and it made Eddie immeasurably jealous, which was a feeling he was unhappy that he was getting all too familiar with.

            Beverly took a drag and surveyed the room. The tension was so thick that it dripped off the walls, like deeply unhappy molasses. Beverly blew out a plume of smoke and frowned. “Okay, fuck this,” She said, sliding off Eddie. She stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips, the cigarette limp between her lips. She pointed to Eddie and then Richie. “You two. We’ve all put up with this bullshit for too fucking long. I don’t give a shit if something happened between you too, we’ve had enough of this stupid silent treatment! You’re _Richie_ _and Eddie_. Figure your crap out.”

            Eddie was completely shocked, but Richie just shifted uncomfortably, like he had expected this to happen. “Bev—” He protested, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

            “No, you’re doing this. _Talk_ to each other,” she pleaded. “Seriously. Please, just talk to each other.”

            The others made no protest as they filed out of the room, leaving only Richie and Eddie behind on opposite sides of the room. It was quiet for a solid minute, both eyeing each other cautiously before Richie spoke.

            “I just—” He started, and then stopped himself and sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I just want to know why, that’s all.”

            Eddie’s tongue felt dry and useless in his mouth. “Why?” He croaked, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

            “Oh, fuck you, Eds, you know exactly what I mean,” Richie snapped, pushing up his glasses.

            “I don’t know what you want me to say, Richie,” Eddie sighed.

            “I want you to tell me the truth,” Richie said, standing up and approaching Eddie. Eddie drew his knees up to his chin protectively. “No, I _need_ you to tell me the truth.”

            “What truth, Richie? There’s so many things…” Eddie trailed off hesitantly. “God, Richie, I don’t know.”

            “Why did you run away from me? Why haven’t you spoken to me in a year? Why… why aren’t we even friends anymore?” Richie asked. He stood in front of Eddie’s chair, hands shoved deep in his pockets, raw and vulnerable and _right there_.

            “I couldn’t stand it,” Eddie admitted. “Seeing you with someone new every hour. God, it tore me apart.”

            “But why, Eds? Please, I want to understand,” Richie begged.

            “God, Richie, I don’t even know how more obvious I need to be,” Eddie chucked wryly. “What do you want me to _say_ , Richie?”

            “Something!” Richie shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Anything! Eds, I just want to know _why_ —”

            “I love you!” Eddie screamed, standing up now, emotion written across his face. “I’m in love with you! Is that what you want to hear, Richie? The truth? The fucking truth? The truth is, I love you, I’m in love with you, I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen years old and I couldn’t _deal_ with seeing you with other people! Every time I had to watch you makeout with some random person, all I could think about was what they had that I didn’t—”

            “Oh, Jesus fuck, Eddie,” Richie said, dragging his hands through his hair in exasperation. “They weren’t you!”

            Eddie stilled. “ _What?_ ”

            “Every single one of them, they weren’t you,” Richie said, voice lowering. “The reason why I fucked everything that _breathed_ was because… Jesus, because… I thought you could never love me back,” His voice trailed off into a whisper as he peered at Eddie from underneath his eyelashes.

            Eddie froze, eyes wide in shock. “What?”

            “I love you too,” Richie whispered. He stepped around Eddie to sit in the chair behind him. Eddie spun around to follow him as he slouched into the chair. “God, I love you too, Eds. Since we were fourteen.”

            Eddie could feel his feelings bubbling in his stomach and boiling over, a wave of realization hitting him. “You… you love _me_?”

            “I love you,” Richie said, pushing up his glasses.

            Eddie felt something snap in him and he rushed forward, crawling into Richie’s lap. Richie’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as Eddie settled into his lap.

            “What are you—” Richie asked. His hands fluttered to rest on Eddie’s hips delicately.

            “Shut up,” Eddie muttered, leaning forward. “Just shut up and kiss me already, Trashmouth.”

            Richie broke out into a grin and leaned forward, pressing his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie kissed back hard, pent-up emotion spilling forward. He threaded his hands into Richie’s curls, pulling him even closer. Richie opened his mouth, pressing his tongue against the seal of Eddie’s lips, asking for permission. Eddie let him in gratefully, allowing Richie to lick into the heat of his mouth. They kissed passionately, their feelings finally realized. Richie tasted like nicotine, delightfully addictive, and Eddie knew he would never grow tired of his taste. Richie grasped Eddie’s hips tighter, pulling him closer. Their chests brushed and Richie let out a soft noise of delight. The noise sparked something in Eddie, and he ground his hips down onto the curve of Richie’s lap.

            Richie broke away from the kiss with a gasp of pleasure before latching his lips onto the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder. Eddie tried his best not to keen as Richie sucked a purple bruise there. After making his mark, Richie dragged his lips up the side of Eddie’s neck and across his jaw until their faces were pressed together from the top of their foreheads to the lines of their noses.

            “God, I love you,” Richie said reverently.

            Eddie grinned and kissed Richie again, this time with renewed fervor, and he reached to grasp Richie’s wrists where they rested on his hips. He guided Richie’s hands up under his shirt so Richie’s warm palms were pressed again the bare skin of the small of his back.

            “I can’t believe this is real,” Eddie whispered against Richie’s lips. Richie’s fingertips pressed harder into the skin of his back as to reassure him that it was.

            “I can’t believe this is happening,” Richie giggled. “Eddie Kaspbrak loves me too. Eddie Kaspbrak is grinding on me.”

            “Okay, I take it all back—” Eddie said, making to clamber off Richie’s lap, but Richie tightened his arms around Eddie, hiking up Eddie’s shirt so his bare chest was pressed against Richie’s.

            “There’s no take-backs on _love_ , babe,” Richie drawled. Eddie shivered at the pet name despite willing himself not to, and Richie smirked in recognition. “So, you like it when I call you babe?”

            Eddie bit his lip and blushed red. “Oh, fuck you, Tozier.”

            Richie waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “Wouldn’t you like to?”

            Eddie shrugged. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” He asked, blushing harder.

            Richie’s jaw dropped and he squealed. “Oh, my god, I love this so much!”

            “Shut up, Richie, or I’ll leave,” Eddie said.

            “No, you won’t babe—” Richie started, but he was interrupted by Eddie pulling off his shirt and dropping it to the floor.

Richie turned a peculiar shade of pink.

“I like it when you’re speechless.”

“I… _fuck me_ , Eds.”

            Eddie adopted a shit-eating grin. “I’d love too.”

            Richie’s grin widened as he crashed his lips on Eddie’s, cradling Eddie’s jaw in his hands. Eddie’s fingers fumbled the hem of Richie’s shirt questioningly, and Richie shed the shirt without a second thought. Eddie smoothed his hands over Richie’s skin, tracing his ribs and the line of his spine. Eddie pressed the pad of his thumb into the hollow of Richie’s throat carefully. “I love your collarbones. I think they’re my favorite part of you,” Eddie admitted.

            “Besides my sparkling personality, of course,” Richie joked, face red with embarrassment at the compliment.

            Eddie rolled his eyes at the comment and leaned forward, kissing the skin of Richie’s collarbone softly. Eddie mouthed at the hollow of his neck and Richie squirmed beneath him. “Oh, shit,” Richie whispered.

            And then the door burst open, admitting a wave of flabbergasted Losers.

            “H-h-holy _shit!_ ” Bill shrieked, covering his eyes.

            Eddie screamed and covered himself with his discarded shirt, still on Richie’s lap, while Richie only leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head, a victorious smirk plastered across his features.

            Beverly only sighed in mock exasperation. “Jesus, children. I said make-up, not fuck on poor Bill’s couch!”

            “Yeah, wh-what did the c-c-couch do to d-deserve that tr-tr-treatment?” Bill proclaimed. Stan rubbed his boyfriend’s shoulder reassuringly, looking as if he had expected this outcome.

            Mike collapsed into a fit of giggles and Ben patted his back, a small smile playing across his features.

            “Are you kidding? This couch is _blessed_ to have been exposed to our love connection!” Richie protested.

            “Shut _up_ , Richie!” Eddie hissed, quickly putting on his shirt. Eddie clambered out of his position straddling Richie and stood up, but Richie just wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulled him back down, so he was sitting in Richie’s lap. He squirmed as if in protest, but it truly wasn’t much of a fight.

            “You love me babe, don’t lie,” Richie said.

            Eddie couldn’t even protest, he only blushed.

            “Aww…” Ben cooed.

            “You guys don’t talk for a year, and we leave you alone for _half a motherfucking hour_ and you’re already back to fucking each other with your eyes,” Beverly complained, the warmth and humor in her eyes leeching out any of the potential venom of the statement.

            “Talk to me tomorrow, Ringwald, and I can promise we’ll be fucking with more than our eyes,” Richie smirked.

            “Oh, shut the fuck Richie, that’s not going to happen and you know it,” Eddie snapped, crossing his arms petulantly.

            “ _Yet,_ ” Richie crooned, leaning forward and peppering the side of Eddie’s neck with quick kisses. Eddie wrinkled his nose up and shook Richie off with a smile.

            “You are a piece of shit, Tozier,” Eddie said.

            “And I’m lucky you love me,” Richie grinned.

            Eddie smiled and pecked Richie on the lips before pushing up his glasses for him.

            Beverly made a retching noise.

            Despite the rocky road that had led him here, Eddie Kaspbrak was grateful for all of it because it had led to this moment in Richie Tozier’s arms.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and let me know if you did! Check out my other Reddie stories Cruel to be Kind, What's My Name?, Eight More Minutes, and Not That Kind Of Chemistry!  
> Love you Losers!  
> Kisses,  
> Chattre


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